


Watch Me While I Sleep

by darylobsession (Shirleytheresevanderhorst)



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 12:37:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13717830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shirleytheresevanderhorst/pseuds/darylobsession





	1. Insidious Introductions

The cold barrel of a gun was making Daryl's head hurt. Arguing voices sounded almost muted above his head, and the sunlight seemed faded and pale.  
'-throw him in the pit, let him show his worth! Give us a little well earned entertainment.' The words hit him like a slap across the face.   
He twitched, earning a hard shove with the gun into his temple and a growled 'Keep still you fuck.'  
His vision seemed to seep back into focus then. A soggy mass of flesh and organs was in front of him, flies just starting to infest. Suddenly his heartbeat was loud in his ears, like each of his senses was slowly re-starting, like the system functions of a computer. Smell hit him next, a putrid, rotten stench, one he could almost taste on the back of his tongue too, just discernible above the metallic taste. He reflexively spat out the blood and tongued the cut on his inner cheek.   
'Shit, walkers heading this way.' I heard another voice, one I hadn't heard yet.  
'Fuck. Get this shit in chains, up in the truck. We'll settle this later.'  
The cold metal of the gun was removed momentarily, only to be substituted by the uncomfortable pressure of chains on his wrists. He was heaved to his feet and shoved up into the military truck. Doors were slammed and an engine roared to life, drowning out the now near-sounding walkers.  
Momentarily forgotten in a corner, Daryl observed the people around him through his hair. All men, all tough looking, tried and tested. Three of them held guns, good enough quality, obviously used to care an attention. Another two had mean looking blades, and wore thicker armor.   
They rode in relative silence now, seeming reluctant to discuss anything in front of Daryl.   
He heard a gate close as the vehicle slowed to a stop. He was shoved out the back, stumbling onto his knees.   
'So this is what you picked up?'  
'He killed Tom.'  
'Well shit. Get him in the cell, we got other fish to fry right now.' Daryl raised his head just enough to glare at the man speaking. He stood tall and broad, but his face was twisted into an ugly scowl, scar disappearing into his collar on his neck.  
'Yes sir.' Daryl was picked up and put on his feet, and then pushed and prodded down the street. He tried to look around as much as he could, but the constant jabs with knife ends kept him just distracted enough that nothing major stuck in his head. The 'cell' was a free-standing cage inside a small building, containing a hard cot, a bucket, and a small camping lamp.  
'Lovely.' Daryl grumbled under his breath.  
'Look asshat, you're lucky to even be alive right now. Shut the fuck up and sit down.'  
The door was slammed and the men vacated the room. They stayed next door for a moment, given away by the low rumble of conversation, before the door to the building was also slammed. It was suddenly quiet. Daryl suppressed the urge to panic, sitting on the cot. 'Fuck.'


	2. Mistrustful Meetings

A squeaking noise roused Daryl from his sleep. It took him a second to remember where he was, before he sprung up, backing into the corner of his confinement. Next to open was the door to the room where his cell was. He had spent sometime analysing every possible element of said room as soon as he had been left in the cell yesterday. It had one window, which was so grimy nothing but some faded light could be seen through it. One door, one colour of paint, one cell.   
A smallish figure came in, shutting the door behind it. A smell accompanied the person, who held a bowl.  
‘I brought soup.’ The voice was female, and trembled slightly, as though she was afraid.  
Daryl remained silent. He watched her gathering herself and walking over to the bars, sliding the bowl between them. A hunk of bread followed, from within the folds of her cloak.  
‘You should eat that. You’ll need the strength.’  
She backed away once more, leaving in a flurry of cloak.   
Daryl’s mind went through all the possible outcomes. Poisoned soup, slow death, prolonged suffering. His stomach convinced him he might die anyway. The soup tasted like carrots, something he hadn’t had in a long time.   
Time passed, he thought maybe a week, if the light from the window was anything to go by. Every day the woman would come in and leave him some food, ranging from soup to stew, always with some bread, in varying degrees of freshness.  
On the eighth night, the door opened, but heavier steps greeted his ears. He scrambled up, suddenly afraid.  
The door banged open, and the man he had seen on his first day stood in the doorway.  
‘So you killed Tom.’  
Daryl was confused, before remembering the man that had lain in pieces before him on that road was called Tom.  
‘He was one of my best fighters. How did a speck like you finish him?’ The man pulled a chair in from the other room. Behind him, Daryl spotted the woman, hood now pushed back. She was younger than the man, who looked to be in his sixties.  
‘Are you mute?!’ The man swung at the cage with a long metal rod, producing a jarring noise that Daryl felt in his bones.  
‘Fuck you! That asshole attacked me, I was saving my own ass!’ Daryl suddenly shouted, voice hoarse from disuse.  
The man sat still for a moment, watching him intently. ‘You been enjoying the soup, boy?’  
Daryl stared, unsure at this sudden change in conversation.   
‘I asked you a question fucker, my woman works hard at making meals.’  
The small figure behind him shifted.  
‘S’good.’  
‘So this is what we’re gonna do. I take you out this cage. I put a collar on you. You become my bitch and do whatever I tell you to do. You try to get away - I cut off a piece of you after the collar has shocked you into unconciousness. If you’re stupid enough to try it again? I’ll just keep taking off pieces, until you are so crippled your own mother wouldn’t recognize you. Do we have an understanding?’  
‘Yeah.’  
‘Good. Turn around, hands on bars.’  
Daryl complied, waiting for an opening as the large man reached for him. He dodged , smashing his elbow into the man’s side, but instead of the lack of resistance he e pected after that move, the man smashed his own elbow into Daryl’s side, and a sickening crack and a piercing pain signalled a broken rib, making Daryl cry out.   
‘Musn’t value your parts, you idiot.’ The collar clicked into choking position and his hand was yanked behind his back, forcing him into a submissive position. The slither of a knife being unsheathed was heard, and then white-hot pained sliced up his arm and his left pinky thumped onto the floor of the cage, blood splattering moments later.  
A scream was strangled from his throat.  
‘I wasn’t fucking around. One piece every time. Do we have an understanding?’  
Daryl just nodded, pain messing with his ability to think.  
‘Wonderful. Now get up, and follow me.’  
Sunlight blinded Daryl as he exited the house, stumbling behind the man in front of him.  
I watched the man trail after Rogan, leaving a trickle of blood from a missing finger on the street.


End file.
